A public funeral to his mortal remains, a national monument to his memory, and a sum of money to discharge the debts contracted by him while toiling in the service of the state, were voted; and he was interred in that corner of Westminster Abbey where the ashes of so many famous statesmen, who have shaken senates with the fierce conflict of oratory, repose in peace together. He was, indeed, well worthy of every token of respect which a great and enlightened nation could thus bestow; for though men may and do differ as to his genius for legislation, his success in administration, and the propriety and effects of his achievements, there are few who can contemplate without admiration his high talents, his majestic eloquence, and the zeal he ever manifested to serve the country which he loved so well, without reference to pecuniary gain or the gratification of mere vulgar ambition. LORD ERSKINE. Among the great men and accomplished orators who, during Pitt’s long and arduous tenure of office, strove energetically to curb his will, humble his pride, and exalt his celebrated rival, none was more conspicuous for ability and eloquence than the immortal Erskine, though it was not in a senatorial capacity that he displayed, to their full extent, those vast powers, or achieved the oratorical triumphs which added lustre to an ancestral name, and formed a reputation so splendid. Thomas Erskine, unquestionably one of the most brilliant, courageous, and irresistible advocates who ever appeared at the English, or indeed at any, bar, was born on the 10th of January, 1750, in the ancient and historic city of Edinburgh. He was the third son of the Earl of Buchan, a Scottish nobleman of long and illustrious descent, but in circumstances so reduced and different from those enjoyed by the race for many centuries, that his yearly income was less than is now obtained, with ease, by not a few banker’s clerks. Some small portion of the family estate still remained, and on it an old castellated residence, probably in as ruinous a condition as the famous Wolf’s Crag, and, therefore, uninhabited by its proprietor. Had the Caledonian thane been a single man, and unblessed by connubial ties, he might have run a career similar to that of the great novelist’s proud, haughty, and restless hero, “the last Lord of Ravenswood.” But he had prudently married the daughter of a Lothian baronet, who speedily brought him several children: so he passed his life in chill poverty, and died in the odor of sanctity while at Bath, seeking consolation in the eloquent preaching of Whitefield, which was said to make sinners tremble as if a lion were roaring among them.